CHAPTER SIX

AFTER WE HUNG up with Bea, Aveda went out to get more school supplies (which I was pretty sure were unnecessary, but she was having so much fun shopping for them I didn’t have the heart to say so) and I settled in for my seventh nap of the day. That first trimester exhaustion was no joke. It came out of nowhere and I was absolutely powerless to ignore it. My new superpower was the ability to fall asleep in five seconds flat.

Usually that was the case, anyway. Right now, my mind was still whirling, making it hard for me to settle in for a restful slumber.

Being back here on campus was stirring up all kinds of weird feelings. Every sight, sound, and smell immediately called up a whole slew of emotions so vivid, I felt like I’d found a really fucked-up time machine.

It wasn’t all déjà vu, however. I’d barely set foot in Mara Dash during my time here, so I had no real memories attached to the place. The old building was one of the dorms built into a hill, and as such, it had one of the oddest structures I’d ever seen—there were little offshoot halls, hidden-away clusters of dorm rooms, and weird Gothic architectural flourishes stuffed into every nook and cranny. The rusty casement windows always creaked when you opened them, the winding staircases seemed like they might collapse if you trod on them too hard, and the creepy atmosphere made you feel as if a lady with flowing hair and a gauzy white nightgown should be running down every cobwebby hall, toting a single melting candle.

But I still felt an odd familiarity, like maybe I should have lived here back in the day. It was more like reverse déjà vu—the sense that I was living a life that hadn’t actually happened, experiencing the road I had decided not to take.

That ever-present air of eucalyptus wafting in through our dorm room window was currently giving me a sense of actual déjà vu, however. It transported me back to the first day I’d set foot on campus—how I’d looked up at the scraps of morning light glittering through the tree canopy and felt that brisk sliver of cold snap that always seems to float just underneath the warmth of the East Bay sun.

I’d closed my eyes and breathed deeply, letting the soft honey-pine scent wash over me. I was on my way to really making something of myself, to being able to take care of Bea and ensure she’d have some semblance of a normal existence. And I was also on my way to controlling my fire power, getting a little better at suppressing it every day. Maybe I could even have a borderline normal existence at some point. The idea had sent an eager little shiver up my spine and long-dormant hope fizzled through my heart. In spite of everything, I’d made it. I was here. Maybe everything would be okay.

I wished I could go back to that hopeful girl and warn her that very soon, things were not going to be okay and would actually be the total opposite for quite some time. I know hearing from Wet Blanket Evie would’ve been a real downer, but maybe it would have saved her some pain.

She probably still would’ve gotten with Richard, though.

I grimaced, remembering that I’d have to see him again tomorrow. There was no way I was getting “sucked into his disgusting web” as Bea had said, but I’d probably have to put some effort into hiding my full-body revulsion.

I still remembered the time I’d tried to argue with him about wanting to write a comprehensive paper on the importance of The Heroic Trio in modern cinema—how it built certain concepts that others copied later, how it was a revolutionary work for Asian Americans unused to seeing faces like theirs at the center of a story.

Or at least it was for me.

We’d had this conversation right after we’d had sex and were sprawled together on his bed. Richard lived in faculty housing, a cluster of quaint cottages tucked away in the very back of campus—an area where some of the agricultural students grew wild stalks of vegetables and weedy-looking masses of plants. His place was small, but he’d tried to make it comfortable, and enjoyed festooning his bedroom with things he considered “opulent.” Thus his bed contained at least a dozen pillows of different sizes, most of them done up in heavy gold-stitched brocade, and his bedspread was the most ridiculously plush velvet the color of red wine.

I’ll admit, I’d been impressed at the time. Diving into that bed was like diving into a luxurious velvet cloud—my own scratchy sheets, which I’d gotten on clearance at Target, could not hope to compare to such fancy excess. I’d briefly wondered how he could afford such things, but had eventually figured out he came from a rich San Francisco society family, the Carmichaels—a factoid he tried to downplay at every turn. He even went so far as to go by his mother’s maiden name, Covington, which he liked to say was a feminist reclaiming. But really, it was so he could brag about being a “self-made man.”

Anyway, Richard was not super into my paper idea, and challenged me on it.

“I don’t know, Evelyn,” he’d said, his sandy hair falling over his forehead as he propped himself on one elbow, studying me. “I’d say the truly intriguing meat of the Heroic Trio discourse is the ways in which its fans project things onto the text that are not, in fact, present in the actual text.”

I flipped onto my side, pulling the velvet comforter more tightly around me.

“Such as?”

“The so-called empowering portrayals of Asian woman,” he said with a laconic shrug. “The portrayals in the movie are fine, nothing special. They’d be considered unremarkable to much of the intended Chinese audience, who are accustomed to seeing Asian female action stars performing a variety of difficult tasks.”

“But that’s what I’m saying. It means something extra to so many of us in the diaspora who aren’t accustomed to that,” I countered. “It really changed things for both me and Aveda. I mean, it’s what made Aveda realize she could be a superhero—because she saw someone who looked like her doing just that.”

“And that’s a projection, that’s what I’m saying,” Richard said, smiling indulgently as he reached over to muss my hair. “It’s not in the text.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not important,” I argued. “As viewers, our relationship to that text is important too, isn’t it?”

“But why address that in such a mediocre film?” Richard sniffed. “If you want to write about transcendent moments in Hong Kong action cinema, that’s one thing. But if all you want to do is pen a fan account about how seeing a movie when you were younger made you feel good, well. I don’t think I can approve that. The movie might be fun, but it’s not exactly earth-shattering. And I want you to write about something earth-shattering.”

“Seeing three Asian women kick ass and exist as the actual main characters in something is earth-shattering,” I said—but my voice had gone all meek, unsure. Mouse Evie.

“Mmm.” Richard leaned in closer, his eyes searching my face. “I just want you to be great, Evelyn. I know you have that potential. I know it, darling.”

Then he’d kissed me and things had heated up and . . . well. More sex that ended with him saying he was “too tired” to go down on me, that I really needed to work on responding to him in a more “passionate and adventurous way” during the act, and that I should be careful about being “so loud” since he didn’t want to disturb his fellow faculty neighbors.

I did not say that 1) those last two points seemed contradictory and 2) I wasn’t even being that loud since he hadn’t bothered to give me an orgasm. No, I’d just smiled and said, “Noted.” Then I’d rolled over and tried to fall asleep for a bit while my handsome office stranger fantasy raged through my mind.

The next day in one of the graduate seminar classes I was taking, he gassed on for nearly the entire hour about how sometimes we have to examine how our personal attachments to stories may be more superficial than we’re willing to admit. I’d taken notes, trying to listen. I didn’t necessarily want to be great—I liked blending into the background a little too much for that. But maybe I could be better. Make something of myself, like I was trying so hard to do.

That notion was interrupted by Richard saying something that pissed me all the way off.

“And so, class,” he said, jabbing a dry erase marker in the air, “I want you all to write a paper about your own wish fulfillment, about something in a piece of cinema that was important to you personally and why. And then analyze whether, decoupled from that . . . the film is actually any good or not.”

My brain had screamed what, but my mouth couldn’t get the word out. My head whipped up to look at him with indignation. He’d taken my idea and twisted it into something awful. Something that downplayed the ways stories can be powerful. Not taking into account that dubbing something a “good” film is always subjective anyway, depending on who’s watching.

He’d just smiled and winked, mouthing “thank you” across the room.

Mouse Evie told me to tamp down the rage that exploded in my chest, thick and toxic and threatening to overwhelm every cell of my being. Mouse Evie reminded me that I might start a full-on fire if I kept going with the rage—and that Richard’s premise was probably way better than mine anyway since he was an accomplished academic, and I should be thankful he’d found any of what I said worthwhile.

But, ooh, that rage. It was the first time in a good long while that anger had throbbed through me like that, refusing to be ignored. It had taken everything in my being to hold it in. To bury it deep.

In the end, I hadn’t written about The Heroic Trio. I’d wanted to write with passion and vigor about why something meant so much to me, but I kept imagining Richard reading it. Smiling indulgently. Shaking his head at silly Evie and her pedestrian taste, getting all excited because she’d found superficial meaning in what he’d deemed a mediocre piece of cinema.

I shuddered, that humiliation from so long ago coursing through me now. Why was it that that type of embarrassment, being made to feel like you were small, lingered?

The way it rose up again now . . . it was just as potent as it had been the first time.

So yeah, if we were going to maintain this ruse, I was really going to have to corral my feelings about Richard in the classroom.

I tried to shove his smug face from my mind and focus on falling asleep.

Ahhh . . . just smell that eucalyptus again, that lovely breeze coming in through the window. Hmm. I should probably close that window before Nate gets here, he’ll worry about me catching a cold and nag me about it . . .

As if on cue, my phone buzzed. I grabbed it off the nightstand and scrutinized the screen. Nate had texted me, letting me know he was “bringing the doctor with him” and he wanted to “pick up where we left off.”

My brows drew together. “Where we left off”? As in me throwing myself at him in front of our house? Him—just for a moment—responding and pulling me close and kissing me. . . oh. Oh!

Maybe Bea was right?! Maybe Nate was planning a “sexy surprise.” Maybe he’d finally been assured enough about my blood pressure and now we could finally . . .

But, wait, what did he mean by “the doctor” . . .

I frowned. That didn’t really seem to go with the whole sexy surprise thing. I gnawed on my lower lip, debating. If I asked him to clarify, would it wreck the mystique? I screenshotted the message and sent it to Lucy, along with an explanation and an apology for bothering her with my sexy surprise dilemmas on her hopefully very sexy honeymoon.

Oh, darling! she texted back right away. Don’t you remember, that’s how you used to refer to his cock!

“What?!?” I yelped.

I typed back: I most certainly did NOT call it that. Ever.

The three little dots appeared, indicating she was typing back. Then they disappeared. Then appeared again.

I sat up in bed, pulling my phone closer to my face. Waiting.

Finally, her response appeared:

Oops. Sorry. Rose reminded me that’s how I used to refer to it! When I was trying to ask you for more details about your first time together. Remember, I said something like, but how did the LITTLE doctor do and then you informed me that it actually wasn’t so little, so I said, okay, okay, how about just The Doctor—very distinguished, and then you said NO because apparently “The Doctor” is some nerd thing, and then much later I tried to tell Nate this story, thinking he might find it highly amusing, but he didn’t seem to . . .

Oh. Rose is telling all about The Doctor now. And love, I think it’s getting her quite excited, so I’m afraid I have to leave you to your own doctorings. I do hope they are spectacular!

She added three eggplant emojis. Then she was gone.

“Oh, man.” I couldn’t stop the big grin that spread over my face.

And suddenly, I wasn’t tired anymore.

“Okay, Doctor,” I said, reading the text from Nate again. “Time to play doctor. I can’t fucking wait.”

---

I spent the next half hour trying to create a romantic atmosphere in our dorm room—not the easiest task. The flimsy paper blind, humming mini-fridge, and threadbare rust-colored carpet didn’t exactly scream SEX.

I lit a few of the Morgan-branded candles Aveda and her mom had purchased at the gift shop and texted Aveda to please, please let me have the room to myself for a couple hours. Then I threw on a pair of bright blue lacy panties and one of Nate’s shirts I’d brought to sleep in—I know this doesn’t sound like the most sexy ensemble, but let’s just say it had definitely proved to be very effective in the past.

I was just attempting to tousle my hair into something that looked like seductive bedhead when there was a knock on the door.

“Okay,” I murmured, butterflies flitting through my stomach. “Let’s go.”

I bounded over to the door.

“Hellooo,” I sang out, throwing the door open. “Is the doctor in? Because I’m feeling very—”

“Evie?”

My mouth snapped shut. My husband was standing in the doorway . . . alongside none other than Doctor Rebekah Goo. Who was giving me a sweet, quizzical smile as they both took in my state of undress.

“Hi, Evie!” she chirped, giving me a little wave. Doctor Goo had the sunniest disposition I’d ever encountered. She was short and curvy, with a mop of dark curls and glowing dark brown skin, and she always wore a pair of adorably mismatched Crocs in a rainbow of colors. Her cheerful demeanor made even the most clinical of statements sound like something to be celebrated, and I appreciated her so much for that.

Although I didn’t totally appreciate her presence at the moment.

“Hi, Doctor Goo,” I said, my voice faint.

“Are you all right?” Nate said, stepping into the room. He reached over to feel my forehead. I gnawed on my lower lip and tugged on the t-shirt, which was not quite covering my ass. “You got my message, right? About bringing Doctor Goo? You’d mentioned she was going to come by and give you a checkup later, so I thought it might be best to combine our visits.”

Oh. Of course. He’d been referring to an actual doctor. Not his penis. That . . . made so much more sense. And if I wasn’t currently looking at everything through a horny cloud of hormones, I probably would have figured it out. I did vaguely remember Doctor Goo being scheduled to come by later . . .

“What did you mean about ‘picking up where we left off’?” I blurted out, my brain still playing catch-up.

“Monitoring your health,” Nate said. “We were discussing that right before you left, remember?”

“Sure,” I muttered, the word coming out like the longest sigh ever. “Of course. I should probably put on some pants.” I surreptitiously blew out my romantic candles as I shuffled over to the closet. “Um, please make yourselves comfortable . . . wherever you can,” I called out as I shimmied into some sweats. “Sorry our dorm room isn’t more spacious.”

“Not a problem—I can set up anywhere!” Doctor Goo chirped, bustling over to my bed and setting down her bags. “And thanks for the email about your new mission. I wanted to get some baseline stats to see where we are with the blood pressure and such so we can make sure you’re taking care of yourself while you’re here.”

“Right,” I murmured, crossing the room to sit next to where she was setting up—it looked like she had a portable blood pressure machine and some other equipment.

I had sent Doctor Goo an email about the mission and why I might need to have her visit me on campus a couple times, depending on how long we were here for. Aveda and I had no idea how long it was going to take to crack the case, but we figured we’d be at Morgan for at least a couple weeks.

“You look good!” Doctor Goo enthused, wrapping the blood pressure cuff around my arm. “Just glowing.”

I gave her my pasted-on smile and let my gaze wander to Nate, who had settled himself on Aveda’s bed. He was studying me with the serious, worried look that had become the norm for him recently.

I looked down at my lap, listening to Doctor Goo’s perky voice telling me to breathe as she tightened the cuff.

I couldn’t help but feel stung—the first thing Nate had done was feel my forehead. No hug, no kiss, no expression of affection. No asking how I was beyond the usual questions about my health.

“This is great, you’re totally back in normal range!” Doctor Goo beamed, giving a little fist-pump. “The med’s working. And all your other vitals look good. I will need you to come into the office for your next ultrasound, but for now, just keep doing whatever you’re doing. And try to take some extra care on this mission. I know being a superhero is a very dangerous occupation, but please don’t take any unnecessary risks if you can help it—no leaping tall buildings in a single bound or anything like that. Is there anything else you need from me while I’m here?”

“I think I’m good,” I said, fiddling with the bottom of my oversized shirt.

“Doctor,” Nate said, leaning forward, “do you have any further information about the concerns we’ve expressed—about the baby being the first of its kind?”

“That’s something we’re just going to have to keep monitoring for,” Doctor Goo said, packing her equipment up. “But I can tell you: there haven’t been any issues or complications with any of the superbabies I’ve delivered. And remember, superhero DNA is demonic in origin since all those powers came from demons—I actually don’t see a huge difference between Evie’s superhero DNA and your demon DNA. And since both of you seem to be very healthy . . .” She trailed off and gave him one of her winning smiles. “I don’t think we need to worry at this stage. I’ll definitely inform you if I see anything even a little bit out of the ordinary. And of course call me if you experience any complications.”

“Thanks, Doc,” I said, making my big, pasted-on smile even bigger.

“Yes, thank you,” Nate said, nodding mechanically. His expression looked far away, like he was thinking extra hard about something. “Doctor, would you mind letting my wife and me speak privately for a moment?”

“Of course!” Doctor Goo sang out, gathering her things. “Actually, I was thinking I’d like to explore this beautiful campus a bit. Seems like an interesting place—and so empowering!”

“Oh, yeah, totally empowering,” I said absently as she flew out the door.

I turned to Nate, trying to meet his gaze. But now he was studying the floor, his brow furrowed. Silence descended over us, thick and awkward—and since I’d closed the window, there wasn’t even that comforting breeze drifting through. Sitting across from each other on narrow twin beds, breathing in the stale dorm room air, staring at that ugly carpet . . . it just felt so bizarre, so disconnected. The space between us was so small, but it felt insurmountable.

“Evie . . .” Nate began. Then he trailed off, his gaze locked on the floor.

I felt a pang. What was bothering him so much? I could never stand to see him in pain. It always ignited my protective side, making me want to set fire to whoever had hurt him.

“Hey,” I said softly. I got up and crossed that space between us, sitting down next to him on Aveda’s bed. “Nate . . . baby.” I laid a tentative hand on his arm. “What’s going on? I know you’ve been worried about my health and the pregnancy and . . . everything. But you seem extra worried today. Please, can you just talk to me? Please.”

My voice wavered on that last word, so plaintive it was on the verge of a sob. I had so many emotions bottled up, and now they were threatening to spill out all at once. He looked up, a bit of surprise crossing his face. His eyes were haunted, like he’d just seen . . . well, a ghost. Which apparently wasn’t completely out of the question here at Morgan College. He covered my hand with his and I leaned against him, trying to tamp down my raw-edged feelings.

“I . . .” He closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his thoughts. Then opened them and met my gaze. “I’ve been trying to talk to people in the local underground demon-watching community . . .”

“Okay,” I said slowly, encouraging him to keep going.

There were a few loosely organized groups that had formed around the Bay, people who were extra keen to gather any information they could get about demons and the Otherworld. So far, all this had led to was crackpot theories from people falsely calling themselves “demonologists.” Most of them were convinced demons were manufactured by the US government in an attempt to take out all the hippies of San Francisco. Nate and Bea liked to keep track of what was being said in these groups, just in case they ever produced something useful.

“There’s a rumor that’s bubbled up recently,” Nate continued. His eyes went to the floor again, but he kept his hand on mine. “A rumor that . . . my mother is still alive. And she’s been able to send her operatives into our world.”

“Okay,” I said again, trying to keep my tone calm and even. “I suppose it’s possible. We don’t know what, exactly, happened to Shasta after I shoved her ass into the portal. Since the walls between our worlds are becoming thinner, maybe she’s found a way to get through. But what evidence do they have? How do they know that’s happening? Because usually, those groups . . . I mean, their theories come out of whatever outlandish thing they’ve made up in their imaginations.”

“True,” Nate said softly. “But this time . . .” He shook his head. “Evie, I . . . I’ve been hearing her.” He met my eyes again—and his face was even more haunted now. “She’s been talking to me. When I dream. I never remember what she’s said when I wake up. Just . . . her voice . . .” He shuddered and turned away from me, putting his face in his hands.

That protectiveness stabbed through me again. Shasta had tortured Nate when he was no more than a child, leaving scars that were both mental and physical. If she was still alive, I’d do everything in my power to keep her away from him.

I would not let her hurt him ever again.

“Nate.” I reached over and gently tugged one of his hands away from his face, forcing him to look at me. “You’ve had nightmares about her before. Could it be that they’re amped up right now because you’re so worried?”

“I . . . maybe.” His frown deepened. “But her voice in my head during these dreams, it’s so real. And coupled with the rumors, well . . . I feel we need to take extra precautions. Because if she’s managed to infiltrate our world, she already knows about the baby, thanks to Maisy’s article.”

“Of course,” I said, stroking his cheek. “I’m taking all the precautions I can.”

“And I want to ask you to take one more.” His gaze turned piercing, like he could see right through my skin. “Please come home with me. Leave this mission to Aveda. She can handle it on her own, I’m sure.”

“What?” I dropped my hands from his face and cocked my head at him. “I . . . sorry, what?”

“Come home with me,” he repeated, his voice urgent. “I can’t bear for you to be anywhere else right now—if Mother’s back, I have no doubt she’ll find you. You’re safer at home, where we can protect you—”

“Protect me?” I shook my head, still unsure I was hearing him right. I felt like my brain was short-circuiting, like I couldn’t even process his words. “Um, I’m the superhero here, remember? I’m perfectly capable of protecting myself. I’m actually more concerned about protecting you, Nate. If she comes after me, it’s better if I’m nowhere near you. If she tries to . . . to do anything to you . . .” I shook my head, that need to keep him safe overwhelming me. “And I can’t just leave this mission to Aveda,” I added. “First of all, we’re a team. Second of all, this is important to me—the college doesn’t seem to be looking out for these kids. Not really. I have to be there for them, I have to . . .”

I trailed off, Julie Vũ’s scared face floating through my mind, her voice echoing through my brain: I can’t die.

Tears welled in my eyes. I couldn’t even explain why.

“And third,” I said, trying mightily to keep my voice from wobbling, “I can’t let Aveda handle Richard’s class, that’s a recipe for disaster—”

“Hold on, Richard?” Nate’s gaze darkened. “This mission requires you to interact with Richard?”

“Well, yeah—”

“And you didn’t think it was important to mention that not only are you willfully putting yourself in danger, but you’ll be doing so in close quarters with your ex-boyfriend?”

“You didn’t give me a chance!” I exploded. “To tell you anything! You just barged in here with Doctor Goo and started checking my temperature and demanding my health stats! You barely even looked at me—”

“What are you talking about?” He shot me a perplexed look. “Of course I looked at you—”

“No, you didn’t.” To my horror, my voice wobbled again. I swallowed hard, trying to shove down my tears. I was just so . . . frustrated, and he wasn’t listening and . . . how could I explain everything I was feeling? “You looked at me like a specimen,” I said. “A patient.”

“I’m worried about you—”

“I know,” I snapped. “And your worry is killing me.”

He reeled back, like I’d slapped him. I took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Trying to think of how I could explain, even though anger and frustration were blazing through me like wildfire.

“Look,” I said, trying to make my voice even. “I don’t know why you even care about this Richard thing, you have nothing to worry about—just thinking about him repulses me. And even if I was still attracted to him for some godforsaken reason, don’t you trust me? Haven’t we been through enough together . . .” My voice caught and I swallowed again. “. . . for you to really trust me?”

“I do,” he said, something deep and painful passing over his face. “It’s just . . .” He slumped and leaned back against the wall. Aveda’s Heroic Trio poster stared down at him, waiting. “Recently, I’ve felt . . . distance between us. Like you’re pulling away.”

“I’m pulling away?!” I blurted out. “You’re the one who . . .” I shook my head, trying to move beyond my frustration and focus. It was like a red cloud over my vision, blocking out everything else. “Nate, we haven’t had sex in over a month. And I’ve been trying. But every time, you . . . you reject me. You pull away—”

“Because of your health—your blood pressure, and everything else—”

“Doctor Goo just told us my blood pressure’s fine—”

“And I just told you Shasta might be back. That you need to be careful—”

“I am being careful—”

“Evie.” He glowered at me. “It’s as if you’ve heard nothing I’ve said. Do you not understand how serious this is? If she is back, she won’t rest until she finds you.”

“And I already defeated her once before,” I said. “Why don’t you believe I can handle myself at this point? I’m pretty fucking powerful. Anyway, we don’t know for certain that she’s back. All we have to go on so far are rumors, and your dreams—which you’ve had before. And . . . you aren’t listening to me, either. You always talk about logic and data, but there’s no logical reason for you to pull away from me like you’ve been doing. For us to not have sex—”

“Stop.” He shook his head, his expression thunderous. “I don’t know why you’re equating a threat to our existence—and possibly the existence of everyone else in the city—to our sex life. And I cannot discuss this any further right now. If you won’t come home with me . . . just be as safe as you can.”

His shoulders slumped and he pushed himself up from the bed. He looked so defeated, as if all the life had been drained from his body. I stubbornly maintained my silence as he headed for the door, crossing my arms over my chest—like I was trying to hold myself together.

I didn’t cry, though. I was too mad. I just sat there, trying to make my breath even, trying to control my temper. I could not afford to be mad right now. I still had to deal with the mission and Richard and . . . everything else.

I gazed up at the Trio, willing them to give me strength. I told myself to just keep sitting there, keep breathing. Calm yourself down until you’re not mad anymore.

I was still sitting there, hugging myself, when Aveda returned.